


Once... Always... (part 4)

by EmmyRK



Series: Wacky Drabbles [7]
Category: Mother of the Year (Visual Novel), The Nanny Affair (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Choices, Crossover, Divorce, Pixelberry, STD, gonorrhea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyRK/pseuds/EmmyRK
Series: Wacky Drabbles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859050
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Once... Always... (part 4)

Time decelerates into eerie stillness; her labored breathing rumbles in her ears as her head begins to flounder. The steamy bathroom twists and turns like a carnival ride, her fool of a husband and his whore mistress being the main attraction at the end of the nauseating tunnel. Fearing she may fall, she grips the door frame as she clutches tightly to her chest. Stifling a cry and her urge to vomit, she scours the room; for what? She isn't sure quite yet. A weapon? _Maybe._

 _Perfect. There it is_. She isn't sure why or if this will even help her in the long run. But in the moment, in this abhorrent moment, it's the only thing that makes sense.

She grabs Sam's phone. Because of his incessant business endeavors and networking opportunities, it is never locked. _Idiot._

She swipes up.

_Camera._

_Click._

_Send._

_Delete._

***************

Hiding behind her oversized Chanel sunglasses, Brynn listlessly crumples her empty water bottle between her restless palms, allowing it to fill with air before crushing it in her grip again and again. She intently stares at the pristine chrome lettering on the slate granite wall behind the receptionist _. Dalton & Russo Enterprises_. The crunching of the thin plastic carries throughout the simply designed atrium of the sophisticated lobby, causing visitors and employees passing by to take notice. But still, she is unruffled by the noise; her thoughts roar louder, stronger.

 _"Thanks, I--I'll see you soon."_ Brynn didn't know who else to call after she witnessed her husband's infidelity. What does she do? What is she supposed to do? They don't exactly teach students this stuff in graduate school; she never thought she would be _that_ woman, a woman who would be married to a man with an insatiable appetite for sex; a woman married to a man with plenty of secrets outside their trust relationship.

She fears the problem is her, that maybe the root cause of him seeking physical intimacy elsewhere is because of her. Does he not find her attractive anymore? Does he no longer desire to have sex with her anymore? She is fully aware that everything changed after Olivia was born. Her body was different; her drive was different; the whole family was different. But, Sam was always reassuring, loving even. He was always eager to calm her insecurities, and kiss her self-doubt away.

And then they were surprised with another baby. Although he smiled and doted on her, Sam made it clear he wasn't happy. _"We'll be fucking grandparents when this baby starts kindergarten!"_ He had apologized for his stinging words, but the sentiments remained hanging in the air. Something had changed; he had changed.

After the first trimester, Brynn took it upon herself to grow them close again. She started putting in longer hours at the office in an attempt to show him that she cared about the business. She managed to produce his favorite homecooked meals several nights every week. She would leave him love notes in his brief case in the form of barely-there lacy panties and printed photos of her scantily clad body.

The sex increased tenfold; but, it was cheap and disconnected. The irony of it all is Sam convinced her she was working too hard.

That's when he suggested a nanny for Olivia.

_"There's my glowing sister--"_

Robin abruptly halts in his welcome pursuit, an expression of disgust crawling across his youthful, olive-complected face as Brynn removes her shades.

Brynn's eyes never meet his gaze; her lids are edematous and blotchy, tainting the natural shape of her bright eyes. Her mouth is also swollen and dry while her upper lip is speckled with red irritation from her crying efforts and endless dabs of tissues.

Robin cautiously strolls closer to her. He takes the plastic bottle out of her hands before draping his arms around her defeated shoulders.

"Hey." His voice is calm as he lovingly rubs her upper back. "Brynn, what's--what's going on?"

Brynn's mouth gapes open to form words, but suddenly, her clammy skin flushes. She steadies her breathing, willing away the bile that rages at the back of her throat. She begins to sniffle again, her new tears warming her cool face.

"Brynn?" He grips tight to her hand. "Are you okay? Is the--Is the baby okay?"

Brynn nods as her emotions rain heavily from her eyes.

"Let me call Sam--"

"No!" She snarls, the noise hauntingly reverbs throughout the lobby. Her voice quickly turns into a whisper. "Don't. Not him."

Shocked at her gruff tone, Robin studies her demeanor before shifting his gaze into an angering realization. "What--" he lowers his voice, "what did he do to you?"

"I can't--" she shakes her head.

He interrupts her, placing his broad hands on her shoulders. "Tell me. What did he do to you?"

"Please, Robin, I can't--" her body begins to visibly quake as she gives into more sobs.

"Did he hurt you? Did he lay a hand on you?" He jumps from his seat, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna fucking kill him--"

"Robin!" She desperately pauses him. "Please. Just stop."

He shakes his head, crossing his arms. With his trademark smirk, he scoffs.

"Brynn." His voice is quiet, laced with concern as he squats before her. "You're obviously upset about something, and it clearly involves the bastard." His volume decreases further, becoming more pain-stricken. "Just tell me: what did Sam do?"

 _"He's fucking the nanny. Again_." The unnerving shrill of her voice is matter-of-fact, strong and terrorizing. Her golden-brown eyes pierce through the tension as she raises an eyebrow. Her arms are crossed, firm and unwelcoming as she cocks her hip to the side.

_"That's why she called me."_

With a cunning grin growing across her face, Sofia turns on her kitten heels, motioning for her husband and Brynn to follow her.

**_***********_ **

"I'd like to introduce you, Brynn, to my lawyer--"

"Tommy!" Brynn cuts Sofia off with a rasp, knowing full well who was sitting across the conference table from her. She recognized Sam's old fraternity brother the moment Sofia escorted her into the luxe boardroom. Brynn would consider Thomas Mendez and his wife Tara fairly good friends. The husbands are regular golfing buddies on Thursday afternoons, and the wives are active chapter members of New York's Women in Science Association.

"It's good to see you," Brynn continues, offering a sincere nod. "The girls good?"

"They're doing well." He offers a coy, gentle smile; the subtle gray in his kind blue eyes match the silver highlights in his thick wavy, brown hair. "I got to video chat with Luz yesterday. Spending the month with my abuelita in Mexico was the perfect summer vacation for her. And then Zoey is down at Embry-Riddle for the week for her freshman orientation."

"So, she got the scholarship?" Thomas nods, blushing in pride. "Wow! That's incredible, Tommy!"

Sofia interjects with the clearing of her throat. "Mr. Mendez is here as a special favor to me." She curtly nods at Brynn before continuing. "I know you're a very busy man."

Thomas casually raises his hands, his dimples never leaving his face. "Ah, don't worry about it."

"Do you," Brynn labors through a swallow. "I mean, you know--like, what's going on? Um, why you're here?"

Thomas gives a sympathetic nod, as he looks down at the pen he's twirling between his fingers.

"Listen, Tommy, you and Sam--"

"Brynn, you are my client."

"But, you and Sam--"

"Sam knows." The pen hits the desk with a thud. Thomas's eyes are convincingly fixed on Brynn as he rotates his lower jaw, considering his next words. "He and I. Well, we've been through this song and dance before. He knows." His words turn soothing as a small smile returns.

After several agonizing moments filled with gentle coaxing and encouragement, Brynn opens up, tearfully divulging the events of the day. She starts with her surprising revelation at her obstetrician visit, followed with the convoluted conversation she had with her assistant about Sam's meeting schedule for the day. She finally finished with the moment she called her sister-in-law, a woman once engaged to Sam, for advice after seeing him intimately with another woman.

Sofia thoughtfully chisels away at a fingernail with an emery board. "I, for one, think you need to hit him where it hurts." The room falls silent, causing her to look up from her manicure. "You know? Take everything from him. The money, the business, the kids." She points her nail file at Robin. "We could call the press. I know several reporters that would kill for an exclusive interview. They'd have a field day with--"

"Whoa, whoa, Sof," Robin interrupts his wife.

She scoffs as she returns to her nails. "What?"

"I know the botox in your face helps match the emotions in your cold heart, but Brynn is not a machine. She's still processing this." He endearingly places his hand on Brynn's shoulder. "Give her a minute."

Sofia glares at her husband before tending to her next nail.

"Brynn," Thomas calmly begins. "Are you considering divorce?"

"You men," Sofia hisses as she rolls her eyes. "Of course, she is!"

Thomas slightly turns his head towards the brassy blonde, his eyes intentionally focusing on his legal notepad as his voice stays restrained from saying what everyone is thinking. "Sofia, I am asking Brynn."

He compassionately turns to his client. "What do you want, Brynn?"

Brynn sniffles into a used tissue as steady streams of warming tears fall down her cheeks. She twirls her Harry Winston around her finger mindlessly, remembering how she once admired its beautiful twinkle of refracting colors. "Why--" She sniffles, again. "Why would I want to be with someone who doesn't want me?" Her voice trails off as she covers her face; heart-wrenching sobs bellow from her brokenness.

She finally clears her throat, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes." There is certainty in her voice. "I want--" she exhales slowly. She never thought these words would ever leave her lips, especially not concerning the love of her life, not about her Samuel. "I _need_ a divorce."

"Okay, then." With the click of his pen, Thomas begins shuffling papers into manila folders, quickly jotting information down on his notepad. "I guess let's start with your goals. Assets. Shares. Property--"

Brynn shakes her head, holding up a hand. "I'm not interested in taking that to court."

Sofia, Robin and Thomas exchange concerned looks.

"I understand that you are going through a ton of turmoil." Thomas speaks in a quiet tone. "I can't even begin to imagine your heartache, your stress. No physical thing in this world will fix that pain. But, it's a good idea to discuss your assets."

"You have to protect yourself, Brynn," offers Sofia.

"We can't forget Mickey, Mason, and Olivia--"

"How dare you," Brynn interrupts, growling at Robin. "You don't think that my children aren't at the forefront of my mind? They're the whole reason why I don't want to take this to court! It's bad enough they have to grow up under public scrutiny. Now this?"

Brynn looks up at the fluorescent lighting, fighting back the next threat of tears. "I can't put them through this heartache. I just can't. The arguing, the mudslinging--" her voice hitches as she covers her face. "I'm sorry," she whispers, sharing a look with Robin as she clears her throat. "My answer is this: I'm not interested."

A bitter heaviness sours the room as the conversation abruptly ceases. Brynn averts her eyes downward, picking at her cuticles as she anxiously chews on the sides of her mouth. The other three at the table exchange worrisome stares.

Brynn's silenced, black phone catches her attention. Out of habit, she taps the screen to life, making quick note of received notifications, messages and emails.

> _"Fwd: June Meeting Minutes" from Cindy_
> 
> _"Fwd: Kinsington and Co. Proposal" from Cindy_
> 
> _"Re: Fwd: Kinsington and Co. Proposal" from David G._
> 
> _"Summer Reading Program!" from St. Edwards Preparatory School_
> 
> **_"New Attachment: Untitled" from 'Hubby <3'_ **

There it is. A jolt of panic shoots through her nerves. The all-too-familiar malaise splashes across her skin as her stomach sears with scorching somersaults. She holds tight to her round belly to steady her breathing, closing her eyes to re-center herself in reality. To open or not to open: was she ready to face it again? Was she ready to see him with her? She was forced to experience it once; was she ready to relive that moment again?

The attached file is the precipice of her entire day, the very cause of the sudden turbulence in her world, the reason for all of the turmoil, the reason for her sudden loneliness and heartache, the reason for the upheaval of her family.

But what about him?

Her eyes snap open with a newfound clarity. Her husband is fine; Sam's heart isn't broken, and he is living life as if everything is normal. He isn't crying, at least not in misery. Brynn bears the burden. She shoulders the pain; she grieves what is being lost, what is being broken.

She double-taps, opening the file. _The disgusting pig._

This indiscretion is proving powerful enough to turn the world, as she saw it, upside down. This is painful; it would be for anyone in her shoes. But, no. Just because her heart is broken doesn't mean she couldn't also have the upper-hand. And Sam Dalton is about to get exactly what he deserves.

With a shaky exhale, Brynn interrupts the stillness of the boardroom.

"I've got an idea."

**************

Brynn turns to leave the boardroom. Everyone was in agreement with her plan in divorcing Sam, but everything that needed to be done was going to take time to complete.

Sofia's cold grip slithers over Brynn's shoulder before she can exit. She motions Brynn to a corner to talk more privately.

"Remember, Brynn: you have to pretend like nothing is wrong. You still have to be June Cleaver; you still have to make like he's the most amazing man you've ever seen. It will hurt, I know. When you find out the man you love is cheating on you, especially with the nanny, believe me: it's dreadful."

"As far as the nanny--" Sofia fixes her eyes into a glare at Brynn. "Do whatever you want with her. Fire her, work her harder, be painful nice to her. I personally like the cold-hearted bitch approach."

Sofia raises her eyebrow, giving Brynn a wink before continuing with her advice.

"Do not let him know that you know until the ink has dried. If you want this plan to work, you need to pull the fucking wool over his eyes. Use your body if you have to. Go grab some condoms. Fuck him. He will never see this coming. That bastard is going to get exactly what he deserves."

Brynn nods her head as she tosses her purse over her shoulder.

"We just need to be smart about when to attack."

**************

She slides the office door closed, locking if from the inside. She takes a moment to calm her overactive emotions as she stares at the brushed-silver handle of the pocket-door.

 _“How would you act if you found out Dad enjoys his dick being sucked by multiple women?"_ Mickey's words ring in her ears; she had just gotten home from an eventful afternoon of trying to protect her children from the dirty knowledge that their father was having an affair with Becca. Brynn had quietly unpacked her tote, and was heading towards the loud scuffle coming from the dining room. But, before she could make her presence known, she received the dagger in her heart. She heard the truth: her son, her precious, innocent boy is fully aware, fully understands that his dad is having a sexual relationship with someone not his wife.

What is she supposed to say now? She is not having this conversation with a young adult, especially not her son. Sam might not take his parenting duties seriously for the sake of his own pleasure, but Brynn still believes she has a responsibility: shield these children from the cruelty of the world, from the evil deeds that others might throw against them--even if that person is their own flesh and blood.

_"Mom?"_

She exhales in disappointment. She can already hear the sadness in his voice, a sadness filled with terror. Her sons never cease to amaze her with their wisdom and intuition; but no seventeen-year-old should ever have to have this conversation with their mom, biological or not.

A lone tear trickles down her nose before she turns to face Mickey. She grieves his innocence; she grieves that he now sees his dad, his hero, his idol in a different light. Sam's infidelity isn't just against her; he committed it against the entire family.

Brynn slowly approaches the chaise lounge, taking a spot next to Mickey. She can tell he's been crying; of the twins, he is the least emotional. He can't meet her face, but his doe eyes dart around the room, dancing with his anxiety. He bounces his knee which shakes the foot of his crossed leg. He continues to gnaw at his nails.

"Baby?" Brynn leans down, hoping to catch his eyes. "I know." She reaches out, gripping his arm. Her voice cracks as she continues. "And I know that you know."

Mickey stops his squirming, forcing himself to look into his mom's tear-stained face. Brynn closes her eyes, trying to stifle her raw emotions; this moment belongs to him, not her. What does she say now?

Without warning, Mickey throws his arms around Brynn in desperation to be held; without hesitation, his mom is already there to catch him, to reassure him, to love him. He may be ten years older, but in many ways, he is still the seven-year-old boy that cried in her arms, begging for her to be his stepmom. If he only knew that truth about his father back then.

"Mom, it--it was awful." He blubbers uncontrollably, rubbing his wet cheeks on Brynn's shoulders.

Brynn runs her fingers through his brown curls, pushing them behind his ears. She nuzzles her nose into his hair, breathing deeply as another wave of sadness manifests down her cheeks. She kisses the top of his head as he grips tighter to her arms.

"And now Dad hates me." There is a painful purity in his words: he truly feels abandoned.

Brynn pulls him from her shoulder; she gently grabs his face with both of her hands, her piercing blue eyes digging deep into his. She wipes away the tears from his cheeks as she kissed his forehead.

"That's not true, baby."

He quiets his sobs. "Then why does he look at me the way he does? It's like he hates me."

"Mickey, listen to me: your father loves you. God, he loves you so very, very much." Brynn catches a sob in her throat, clearing it away as she exhales slowly. "He hates himself right now."

"I--I don't get it."

"Me neither, baby." Brynn blinks away newly developed tears as she collects Mickey's hands in hers. "Sometimes people do foolish things, and rather than punishing themselves, it's easier to hurt the ones they love the most."

She kisses his warm hands as he slinks back into her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. She tightens her grip around his body as she relaxes her other hand on her moving belly. As a family, they sit together in silence.

"Mickey," she breaks the lull. "We're going to get through this. Together."

"But, what about Dad?" He scrunches up his face. "And Becca?"

Brynn opens her mouth, but words fail to form.

"You're gonna divorce him. Aren't you?" Brynn looks down at her wedding ring with grief. "You're--" Mickey struggles to swallow. "You're leaving us?"

"Oh, baby!" She places her hands on his cheeks. "Look at me. We are a team. We will always be a team." Brynn wraps her arms around his shoulders, resting his head under her chin. "I could never leave you. I will never leave you, baby."

He sits up, wiping his face with his shirt. "What about you, Mom? What's going to happen now?"

Brynn sighs. She stands up, taking his hand. "You have to trust me. Dad doesn't know that I know. And we need to keep it that way for now."

Mickey wrinkles his nose, furrowing his brow with confusion. 

"Please, baby. Just trust me. You may see me say or do some weird things, but I need you to trust me."

Mickey dutifully nods.

"I also need you more than ever to be supportive of your brother and sister--especially Mason."

"I will, Mom. I promise."

He gives her a quick hug before they turn to leave the study.

Brynn suddenly stops, lowering her voice. "You were asking me about dating and Kennedy." She continues to unlock the study door.

"What? Mom! Why would I ask--"

"Mickey, remember? You wanted to talk to me?" Her words become more enunciated. "You wanted to talk about Kennedy. About your relationship."

He blushes. "Yes, ma'am."

"And Mickey?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I love you so much."

He grins for the first time that evening.

"Love you, too, Mom."

**************

"I'm home!" Her voice reverbs through the pristine penthouse as she empties her brimming arms of her bounty of grocery sacks and Louis Vuitton bags. The clatter of her red-bottoms against the wooden-floors melodically announce her arrival as she scours for life.

It has been ten days since she first discovered Sam's infidelity. Though she is still heartbroken, she has an extra pep in her step today; she came home early in eager anticipation. Like a seasoned, mighty warrior going into battle, she is clothed with the strength of every woman who has ever suffered from an unfaithful partner. Thoughtfully sharpened for the past ten days, her sword of secret meetings and drawn up documents is prepared for her killshot.

Another story unfolds in the next room as Brynn unpacks her day.

"What was that?" Undaunted by the concern in her voice, Sam continues to paw at Becca's bra clasps like a vicious junkyard dog as he fervently nibbles on her neck. With her skirt pushed up around her waist, she places her palms against his bare chest to settle him for a moment. "Sam, stop, stop. Did you hear that?"

 _"Hello? Boys? Baby girl?"_ Judging by the fluctuating volume in her voice, she is actively looking around the house.

" _Fuck--_ " Sam pulls Becca down from the marbled bathroom counter, tossing her wrinkled shirt at her face as he pulls his boxers and slacks back onto his hips.

She frantically buttons her top as she checks her appearance out in the mirror. "I thought you said she would was going to be out all afternoon!"

Sam flashes her a look of irritation as he buckles his belt. "She's _supposed_ to be." He searches for his white Oxford, unsure where it was discarded when the young co-ed undressed him for their lunchtime tryst.

" _Damnit, Sam!_ " She throws her arms in the air, grunting in exasperation as she runs out of the master suite, leaving Sam behind.

"Mrs. Dalton!" The stunned brassy blonde meets Brynn in the hallway, leading to the master bedroom. "What--what are you doing here so early?" She restlessly pushes her disheveled hair behind her ears, exposing her pink, blotchy skin and swollen, dry lips.

A dismissive smile crawls across Brynn's face. "Well, Becca, this is my home." She crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto her hip. "Last I checked, I am free to come and go as I please."

"Of course, ma'am," she nervously sputters, "I just--I wasn't expecting you so soon. I was going to--"

"How about you take the rest of the day off? Start your weekend early." Brynn knowingly interrupts as her eyes wander across her nanny's appearance. "Surely you have something else--" she clears her throat, "--stimulating to do."

She nervously chuckles. "Of course, ma'am--"

Brynn offers a courtesy hug, pulling Becca into a tight embrace as the familiar aroma of Armani cologne wafts into her nose. She presses her lips against her tramping nanny's apprehensive ear, offering a stern whisper: "Sweetie, you missed a button. Next time, just pull it off completely. That way when you have to re-clothe yourself in a hurry, the buttons are already fastened in an orderly manner."

The young coed freezes in terror as Brynn steps back to glare at her. Becca's eyes become manic, searching Brynn's eyes for a glimmer of important knowledge: does she know?

Frightened, Becca chaotically escapes Brynn's presence, desperately beckoning for the elevator.

Sam remains in the master bedroom for a few more minutes. If he and Becca had walked out together, it would've created an obvious scene. Brynn didn't suspect anything--certainly not with the nanny. This would only upset her, and he'd hate to be responsible for that. 

He pops a mint into his mouth as he smooths out his dark waves with a dampened comb, all the while smirking as his appearance comes together. He grabs his wallet and keys, and heads out to the living area of his penthouse.

He sneaks up behind Brynn, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his hands on her expectant belly. "There's my beautiful wife." He nuzzles his nose into her soft cheek as he plants tender kisses along her jaw. "I've missed you."

Brynn lets out a long sigh. She frowns as she closes her eyes in frustration and exhaustive anticipation. Sam's appetite for lust is rapacious, predatory even. Playing the part of his submissive partner is wearing on her: on her body and on her spirit. But the goal, her goal is in sight, and using her body proved to be the best weapon yet.

He gently twirls his wife around in his arms, allowing his lips to engulf hers. "Mmm… you're home early." He moves his lips down her neck as she forces a giggle at the tickle of his stubble; the sound of her playfulness hardens his desire for her, and knowing that Brynn enjoys his tongue across her chest places him in a winning situation.

"Mmm, Sam," she fakes a moan, rolling her eyes. "I--I wanted to be with you," she stammers as he pulls her khaki duster off of her shoulders, kissing her exposed skin. "Wait… Sam--" she catches her breath. "What about the kids?"

"Sno-cones." His fingers search up her top, stopping to knead her aroused breasts as he suckles at the top of her cleavage. "They'll be home soon."

"Sam!" She snickers as she rakes her fingers through his thick locks, pulling him into her enlarged bosom. "Should we wait--"

With a devilish laugh, he pulls down her jeans before leaning her against the breakfast nook.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

The couple freezes for a moment in their pursuit of each other's bodies.

Sam finally scoffs at the ringing of his phone, allowing his fingers to become drenched by his wife.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

"Sam--"

"I know! I know. _Damnit_!"

Sam looks at his phone to answer it, unfamiliar with the New York number. Brynn hops off the table, pulling her pants up, quickly returning to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

"Hello?"

_"Is this Samuel M. Dalton?"_

"Speaking."

_"Good afternoon, Mr. Dalton. This is Jameson Taylor from Bank of America. How are you today?"_

"Just fine. What can I help you with?"

_"For verification purposes, may I have your date of birth?"_

"June 11th of '82."

_"And the last four digits of your social security--"_

"Whoa, whoa. Mr. Taylor, was it?"

_"Yes sir."_

"What is this purpose of this call? Needing my personal information? My social?"

Brynn shuts the fridge, focusing her attention on her husband. The corners of her mouth slightly turn upwards.

_"I apologize for the intrusion. This is simple verification that I am speaking with Samuel M. Dalton. This is a courtesy call set up by you and by a, let me see, a Mrs. Brynn Schuyler-Dalton--"_

"Yeah, that's my wife."

_"Of course, sir. This is a courtesy call that you set up when you opened this account. This type of account requires a minimum of one-hundred dollars for the account to remain open."_

Sam chuckles. "I don't understand. What's the problem?"

_"Sir, your balance has dropped below that."_

"One-hundred dollars? That's a one followed by two zeroes?"

_"Yes, sir. That--"_

"Impossible. You know? You may fool a lot of people into giving you money, but you aren't pulling a fast one on me today. Goodbye."

_"But, Mr. Dalton--"_

Sam hangs up the phone as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Brynn wraps her arms around his waist. "Darling, what was that about?"

He drapes his arm around her shoulders. "Nothing. Fucking scammers."

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

Sam holds up his phone to peer at the number; but just as soon as he looks, he rejects the call.

But not before Brynn reads the name: " _Becca_ ".

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

"Well, aren't you Mr. Popular this afternoon," Brynn jokes as she gently guides her hand down the front of Sam's pants.

He wildly sighs. "It's that same number again, the scammer." He brushes his lips against hers. "Let me go take care of this."

**************

The relentless rumble of the media overwhelms Sam's senses. With the clamorous hollers of intrusive reporters and blinding punches of flashing cameras hurl him into a stagnant pace of reality. His breathing bristles, roaring like gasps in his ears; the color is drained from his sun-kissed skin. His vision blurs as shadowy figures double, even triple. He turns to the left: a wave of silver microphones crash over his head. He staggers to the right: he dizzies from sudden bursts of blinding light, followed by cascades of speckled black dots. Like being lost in the funnel of a tornado, Sam witnesses the world as he knows it fracture into a heap of shards.

 _"Sam! Sam!"_ A familiar, young spirited voice pierces through the daunts and jeers. Becca hides behind the apartment buildings revolving glass door that is being heavily guarded by security and on-scene police officers. Motioning for him to retreat back into the building, Sam fights off the hungry journalists and races to her side.

Once he is safe inside the lobby, he pushes past his mistress, stumbling into a nearby claw-footed chair. Resting his elbows on his knees, he sinks his swimming head into his trembling hands. He had been so careful; how did this secret get out? His wife has proven completely clueless; his teenage son would surely have enough sense not to whisper even a hint of this to anyone inside the Dalton household, let alone outside their family.

_"Sam, what do we do?"_

Becca's whimper echoes in his ringing ears, lost in translation amongst the traffic busying itself in his mind. His stomach gurgles and sourly churns, threatening to expel it's contents. His pasty face boasts a sheen of agony and sweat. He's a dead man walking.

 _"Sam_! _What are we going to do?"_

With him still not acknowledging her presence, she runs her fingers through his thick hair; but Sam quickly stops her, grabbing her wrist. He glares at her with disgust as he tosses her hand away from him.

"Sam? What--what are we going to do?"

" _'We?'_ " He mutters through gritted teeth. " _I've_ got a family that needs me--"

"Wait, wait," there is a sense of disbelief in her voice. "But, what about me?"

"I don't know, Becca!" He growls. He massages his temples before returning to his feet. "I'm going to go back to my family to figure this out--"

"But--" Her voice hitches, "what about me?" She interrupts as tears collect on her cheeks.

"Becca, don't do this." Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, giving a long drawn out sigh. "Listen, they don't even know who you are. Let's just let this blow over, and I'll call you in a few days. I'll have Carter drive you home--"

"They know my name, Sam!" Her voice shakes, bated with fear.

Sam stands there, searching for words to match the confusion of what he just heard. 

"Becca--" there is a humor in his voice as he says her name. "They don't know who you are--"

Becca tosses a folded up gossip tabloid at his face.

"It's in black and white, Samuel!" she stammers. "They call me out by my name!"

His eyebrows knit with worry as he straightens out the disheveled paper. Absolute horror paints across his face as he opens up the front page.

 _"Dalton's Reprising Role: the Nanny Affair."_ There it was, on display for the world to see: a blown up 17x11 picture of his dirty little secret on the front page of the _Tattler._ Becca's censored body is pushed against the steamy glass shower door with a clear shot of Sam orgasming behind her.

*************

_"Well, figure out where it came from, goddammit!"_

Sam ends his distress call to his lawyer, tossing silent obscenities in the air as he slams his phone on his home office desk. He quickly shoots the rest of his Blanton's bourbon--his second pour for the evening and surely not his last.

The Dalton empire has had it's share of public indecencies and unflattering media attention. Sam has learned that a picture is worth a thousand words--and a hefty payday for whoever captures it, sells it, doctors it or removes it. 

He placed a call to his lawyer, his long-time friend Tommy for help. He encouraged Sam not to pursue the origin of the photo for the fear of stumbling into a wasp next of a media frenzy; but consumed by rage, Sam was insistent. He begged "for the sake of [his] wife and [his] children".

After Sam dismissed the young nanny away through the private parking area with his personal driver Carter, Sam escaped to his penthouse home. His wife Brynn was busy playing games with the kids; the kids must've bypassed the reporters all together through the building's secured garage. Everyone appeared calm, undaunted by anything occurring in the outside world. Sam excused himself to the office to think. And drink.

He peers out his great window, mesmerized by the golden, setting sun that quickly fades into the blanket of the night sky. The New York City hustle continues far below his domain, ever-moving. The ominous future of his family hangs in the balances; and yet somehow, the world continues. Time presses forward. The billionaire suddenly feels a stinging chill of his own humanity.

_"Sam? Dinner's ready."_

He looks at his wife. Her beauty naturally captivates him, robbing him of his own air. Memories suddenly sift through his heavy emotions, recollections of the past playing in his mind like old movie reels: the moment Mickey and Mason instinctively called her, "Mom"; the sparkle in her hopeful eyes when she whispered to him, "I do"; the moment the doctor laid newly-born Olivia on her bare chest. She had a special touch that made birthdays and holidays magical, not to mention her thoughtfulness in always trying to make him feel desired with secret, steamy moments.

She didn't deserve this; she didn't deserve him.

_"Sam?"_

He breaks from his daze as his brow wrinkles in mournful regret.

 _"Baby_?" Brynn closes the door behind her; she notices his reddening eyes as she approaches him. "What's wrong?"

Sam stops her in her pursuit of him, embracing her tightly, kissing the top of her head deeply as he begins to sob.

_"Sam, you're scaring me--"_

_"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."_ Sam falls to his knees as he rests his head on her rounded belly, rubbing it intently and gingerly. He continues to whisper softly, redundantly, _"I'm sorry,"_ as tears break.

Brynn massages his scalp, twirling his curls between her fingers. She stares back out into the sunset, confused by what is currently happening. Is this about the extramarital relationship _he_ chose to have with another women, he chose to have with their hired nanny? And _now_ he feels remorse about it? Is he having a change of heart? More importantly to Brynn, is she?

She finally bites her lip; closing her eyes, she braces herself.

"Darling, what is going on?"

Sam looks up at her as she cradles his blotchy face in her hands. An exhilarating shock of power jolts through her body as she stares down at her vulnerable husband.

He shakes his head. "I--I can't say it."

Her eyebrows furrow. "Sam?"

"I just can't say it to your face, Brynn." He interrupts as his voice breaking with a sob.

Speechless. She glares at her husband, her anger seething. He's the one that cheated, and now _he_ is having a hard time saying it out loud? She was not going to let him off the hook that easily, not this time.

 _"Unbelievable."_ She utters under her breath. She pries his arms from off of her body, shoving him away as she turns to leave.

He quickly rises to his feet to chase after her as she begins to open the door to escape.

 _"Brynn! Wait! Wait! Wait!"_ He pulls the pocket door shut to the office, curiously studying Brynn's hollow eyes. Even though he stares deep into them, her gaze refuses to match his; he might as well be looking at a stranger. Her love for Sam ignites a shimmering light in her eyes, but not today. Today, it is replaced by a dark, sickening bitterness he does not recognize.

Suddenly, a crashing flood of realization engulfs him as he sinks his face closer to hers.

 _"You_ \-- _you know?"_ He hisses.

Brynn's face sours into more fury as she elbows her way to open the door. She isn't prepared to discuss this with him. Unfortunately, Sam physically overpowers her; he grips his tough hands around her arm, whipping her body back into his face.

 _"Brynn_!" he roaringly spits at her. _"For fuck's sake! Tell me the truth!"_

A bone-chilling silence hushes the budding war. Brynn and Sam now peer at each other, wide-eyed and stunned. A painful sting throbs across her hand; a swollen ruddy patch of skin on his cheek achingly burns. Their mouths unfurl. Brynn braces her hand as Sam carefully massages his injured face, both recovering from her powerful slap.

 _"'Truth,' Sam?_ You want _me_ to 'tell _you_ the truth'?" Her hands ball up into fists as she glares at her husband.

Sam puts up his hands as to deflect anymore sudden punches.

"Brynn, please." His words drip with trembling guilt. "It's not what you think--"

She raises her eyebrows, almost humorously entertained by his choice of words.

"Oh, really, Mr. Dalton? Then tell me: what am I supposed to think? You're fucking name is in the news! I have people--your own mother calling me to see if I'm okay--"

He wags his head, his face flushes. "It's not true!"

Brynn scoffs as she crosses her arms, looking away from him. She closes her eyes as she quiets her manic breathing and cool her boiling blood. He's lying; she knows he's lying; but he doesn't know that she know he's lying. And he can't know. Not yet, at least.

"Okay." Her response is soft, tearful.

 _"What?"_ Surprised by her answer, Sam grabs her hands, tracing endearing circles on her soft skin. His dark eyes glisten as they earnestly search hers.

"You're my husband, Sam." Her voice begins to crack as she listens to her own words. "You're my partner, my love. You're my life." 

Sam wraps his arms tightly around Brynn, resting his lips on the top of her head. Brynn's stomach begins to churn. She feels her husbands body relax against hers, acting as if he's relieved. Everything muddies in her brain: did she just admit to knowing about the allegations? Did he just deny the allegations? And did she just insinuate everything was okay? Brynn needs a clearer picture.

"Tell me the truth."

Sam unwraps his arms. He grabs her by the shoulders, rubbing his hands gently up and down her arms. He locks his eyes back on hers, hers gripping onto his.

"Hrmm," he moans lowering his voice. "Anything, baby."

"Are you sleeping with someone else?"

"No." There is a passionate certainty in his voice as he pulls Brynn in for a kiss. "I could never--"

Brynn delicately places her hands on his cheeks, forcing him look into her eyes again.

"Then, I trust _you_." A single tear drops down her cheek as she returns the kiss of his hungry lips.

He pulls her body in tight, tracing fervent kisses across her cheek. His lips rest comfortably on her ear. A wave of guilt washes over his body. _I trust you_. Was it this easy? Was he getting away with murder?

"I love you, Brynn. So much."

**************

The next day, Sam jostles awake when a ray of sun hits his closed, exhausted eyes. Before moving his tired, naked body, he peers around the room. He had a late intimate night with his wife, but her side of the bed is already made up for the day.

The room--the penthouse, for that matter--is eerily quiet. He sits up in a panic, but quickly relaxes. He notices his travel mug on his nightstand with a pink Post-It waiting for him.

> _Early start for me_.
> 
> _Kids at Mom's for the day._
> 
> _Don't forget: meeting @ 9!_
> 
> _XO_

He reaches for his phone to check the time. _7:52AM_. He's usually at the office by eight, but the occasional tardiness from the owner isn't exactly a sin. Plus, he is hoping to avoid the thirsty paparazzi who are no doubt waiting for his emergence.

While glancing at his phone, he can't help but notice a received text message with an attachment.

> From Becca:
> 
> Miss u <3

Sam cautiously inspects the room again. There is absolutely no sign of his wife, no sign of his children. His cheeks flush. A smirk grows across his face as he opens his early-morning delight, a prized treasure.

The attachment reveals a scandalously nude selfie of his nanny-mistress. She captures her curvaceous body on her knees. Her lacy, baby pink G-string is pushed to the side, revealing her perfectly groomed, perfectly smooth mound. And to Sam's arousing surprise, her fingers have disappeared, plunging deep inside of her.

 _God_ , how he wishes to taste those fingers, _to be those fingers_.

He stumbles to the bathroom, gripping his hardening length, as he disappears into a steamy shower for pleasurable ecstasy.

*************

_9:01AM._ Sam jogs around the corner to the front doors of his company. He had Carter drop him off two blocks away in hopes to avoid any possible media attention. Lucky for him, there are only a few photographers waiting outside, and they seem to be keeping their distance. He is greeted by a familiar face.

"Tommy!" Sam extends his arm to his lawyer-friend, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry, but I’m running late to a meeting--"

"Sam, slow down." Thomas intentionally stands between Sam and the door. "I am your meeting this morning."

Sam curtly shakes his head in confusion. "I'm sorry. What?" As he hears several subtle shutters click behind him, Sam flashes his bright, cordial smile to his old college brother.

"Is this about the photo? Did you--do you find out? Who took it?"

"C'mon, Sam." Thomas starts to guide Sam back to his own parked driver. "Let's go some place private--"

Sam shrugs off Thomas's arm as his eyebrows furrow.

"Why don't we go inside to one of my meeting rooms--" Sam demandingly offers.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Dalton," Thomas quickly interrupts. His eyes bore holes into Sam, hoping that he will follow his orders willingly.

" _'Mr. Dalton'? 'Not… a good idea'?"_ Sam scoffs as he grips the handle to open the front door. The taps and clicks of cameras echo against the building.

"Don't do this," begs the attorney.

"And why the hell not, _Mr_. _Mendez_?"

"Dalton, there are two security guards waiting for you on the other side of that door, and they have been asked to escort you from the premise if you were to somehow make it inside."

"I don't understand. Who--no, why? Why would they escort me away from _my_ company?" Sam's face creeps closer into Thomas's face.

"Because," Thomas takes a deep breath. "You don't work here anymore, sir."

Sam stops, letting go of the handle. He slowly turns around as he takes in Thomas's pensive visage.

He begins to chuckle. "Yeah, okay, Tommy. Good one."

Sam turns back to open the door, but not before Thomas slams his hand against the door holding an embossed, notarized document. _Deed of Transfer of Business Ownership._

Sam freezes, reading the specialized paper. "The fuck is this, Mendez?"

He snatches the paper. His eyes dart from corner to corner, unable to coherently make sense of what he is reading.

> _I, Samuel M. Dalton, herby agree to the relinquishment of property rights… including but not limited to intellectual and physical assets…. Declaration of Business Ownership Brynn Schuyler-Dalton._

His eyes zero on a very familiar spot: his own signature. 

His gaze shoots back at Thomas, more confused than ever. "I asked you a question, Mendez. The _fuck_ is this? I signed the business over to my wife? The fuck is--?

" _Dalton_." His voice is stern, direct. A fierceness now penetrates his stares as more photographers gather around the men. "I advise we meet privately for the rest of this--"

 _"For the rest of what, Tommy?"_ Sam's anger kindles as he paces like a caged lion. He throws his arms in the air _. "What the fuck is all of this?"_

Thomas sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He is clearly disappointed that Sam refuses to heed his warnings of taking this discussion behind closed doors.

_"Out with it, Mendez!"_

"Okay, Mr. Dalton--"

" _'Mr. Dalton?'_ " Sam blows a raspberry with his lips.

 _"Mr. Dalton,"_ Thomas hands Sam a manila file folder, stacked thickly with documents. "Consider yourself served."

Sam's eyes widen with bewilderment. He cautiously open his the folder only to be slapped in black and white:

> _Dissolution of Marriage._

He skims through the document; his attention quickly draws to brightly highlighted areas that have already met with his signature.

The blood drains from Sam's face as he stares off into the distance. Memories flash before his eyes as disbelief washes over his weakening body.

 _Brynn. His wife. The home office. The paperwork. "Everything is kosher" …_ _His earlobe. Her mouth. Her teeth. Her hand. His rock-hard cock…_ _Her guttural whispers, "You make me wet, Mr. Dalton"…_ _His signature._

 _"Oh my God, oh my God!"_ Sam sputters as he nervously rakes his fingers through his hair. His vision thrashes feverishly as he plunges deep into the depths of his own consequences. His secret affair wasn't a secret after all _. Brynn knew_. He thought he was fooling her, but the truth is he's the biggest fool of all. _She knew. But, how?_

"And the photo? It came from your own phone, Sam."

Sam's peers off into the distance aloof in his thoughts; that's when it crashed into him: Brynn took the picture. She had witnessed his tryst. _First-hand. Fuck._

More rapid clicks ricochet through the streets; cameras intrusively flash, eagerly bearing witness to this earth-shattering moment. There are now mumbles speckled with casual jeers calling out to 'Dalton'.

Suddenly, Sam struggles to tread through the dark water of his consequences; the wind thrusts violently from his lungs as his body begs for mercy. Painfully waiting for him behind the divorce decree, the division (or lack there of) of marital assets, the transferring of business licensures, insurance, shares, bonds and savings accounts is his worst nightmare.

> _Child Custody Affidavit._
> 
> _Affidavit of Waiver of Paternal Rights._
> 
> _Termination of Parental Rights._

All with his signature. Processed and filed.

 _"Tommy, this--"_ his voices hitches as he becomes nauseous from his world spinning. _"--this can't be happening._ You can't let this happen." His eyes collect tears as his heart collects regret. "She can't--she can't take my kids, Tommy. You can't let her--you can't let her take my babies. _Oh, God--_ " 

Sam trips over his feet, falling to one know as he wails in agony. All around them, a roar of spectators and merciless cameras collect pictures of his downfall. Thomas quickly grabs Sam's arm, helping him steady to his feet.

 _"C'mon!"_

The lawyer pulls Sam through the crowd, shoving him into his nearby towncar. A comforting hush pours over Sam as Thomas slams the door shut, sheltering him from the busying crowd of reporters.

Sam hangs his head in his hands, refusing to make eye-contact with his old friend.

"What do we do now?" His voice shakes, terrified and lost. "Tell me what do we do now."

Thomas thoughtfully rubs his forehead, discerning his words carefully. He places a sincere hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sam," he sighs. "I can't, old friend."

Sam jerks from his sweaty palms, searching Thomas's kind eyes.

"You're my _goddamn_ lawyer. That's _your_ job. Why the hell can't you fix this?"

"Because I represent Brynn, Sam. Advising you is a conflict of interest."

Sam throws his weary head back into his arms as tears dribble down his cheeks.

 _"Fuck."_ He sniffles as he looks back up at Thomas. "I guess this explains the bookkeeping problem at the bank, huh?" He sarcastically chuckles, his voice drenched with tears. "There wasn't a glitch or a computer problem; she drained it."

Sam rubs his eyes as he begins to sob softly. _"Fuck. What am I going to do? What the fuck did I do?"_

Thomas gives a curt nod to his driver; the car begins moving, heading in the direction of the Dalton penthouse in complete silence.

The towncar pulls through and parks in the private garage. Sam chews on his lip; his eyes are blood-shot, looking blankly out his window with his hands folded in his lap. Thomas digs through his leather briefcase, pulling out a lumpy white envelope. He clears his throat, interrupting the painful stillness.

"Sam, I have something for you before you go."

"Hrmm?" Sam blinks back tears as he rejoins reality. Thomas hands him the envelope. "What is this?"

"It's for you." Thomas presses his lips together, a glimmer of his dimples appearing. "From her."

Sam quickly fumbles with the envelope, tearing it open with his nails.

He pulls out a folded , hand-written note; but to his surprise, a familiar piece of jewelry tumbles into his palm, one that he had given to Brynn years ago: her gold wedding band. He had the piece specifically made for her with love in his eyes and in his heart. It is simple and elegant, just like her. He placed on her finger nine years ago, pledging his faithfulness, his undying love, his future to her. He remembers it shining brighter back then, but still after all this time, nothing radiates brighter than his wife's face. He slips the tiny ring on his pinky, barely fitting to his first knuckle before streams of emptiness rain from his eyes.

He brings the folded note to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he can smell the sweet floral hints of Brynn. Unable to wait another moment, he unravels the note.

> _My Darling Sam,_
> 
> _You've proven to me that two things don't last forever: our marriage and gonorrhea._
> 
> _Was she worth it?_
> 
> _Enjoy your whore,_
> 
> _Brynn_

*************

_32 Missed Calls. 67 unread texts. One sender. Sam._

Brynn chips away at the petal pink polish on her manicured nails as her eyes remain glued to the homescreen of her phone. The sentimental part of her heart beckons to hear his voice--not because she misses him. Sure, she misses who her husband was, or rather who she thought he was. But in this moment, her broken heart desires more than anything to hear that he is suffering, that he is in insurmountable amounts of heartache and pain. His hurt doesn't take away hers; rather, the vindication feels sweet.

"Brynn!" Calls out a light-hearted Robin as he tosses his own two young sons around in the pool. "Come on in! The water is fine!"

"Yeah, Mommy!" squeals Olivia as she rides piggy-back on Mason's shoulders in the water. "Come play mermaids with me!"

Hearing the laughter of her children calms her busy, worried thoughts, and she can't help but smile. 

She prepares herself to stand from the cabana lounger when a pair of long arms wrap around her shoulders.

"I'm proud of you, Mom," whispers Mickey. He squeezes her tight before diving in to join the others. 

Brynn's eyes pin-prick with emotion; the uncertainty of the upcoming days terrifies her. But one thing is for sure: they will always be a family. Her children, her whole life and the reason for her limitless joy, remind her that this fight is not in vain. Even though they might not fully understand the details of why mommy had to leave daddy, she knows she is protecting them, for the now and for the future.

_"How are you feeling?"_

Sofia delivers a tray of sliced fruits and veggies to a wicker side table before sitting next to her sister-in-law. She places her soft hands on Brynn's expanded belly, smiling at the waves of movement. Brynn smiles as she matches the movement with her own hand.

"I'm okay," she nods, letting out a hopeful sigh. "It's all going to be okay."

Sofia nods, smiling sincerely at Brynn before turning her attention to the chaos in the pool.

"Sof, thanks again for letting us stay here--"

Sofia dismisses the comment, waving her hand in the air as if the sentiments weren't necessary.

"Stay here as long as you need to."

_"The party don't start 'til I walk in!"_

Everyone turns their attention to Sofia's flamboyantly colorful brother Tony as he bounds through the backyard gate of the Russo-Flores summer home. He makes a bee-line for Sofia under the cabana, but his steps soon stutter as he draws closer, suddenly noticing the presence of Brynn.

"Tony, don't be rude. Come say, 'hello,' to Brynn."

"Of--of course. Hey, B--Brynn."

Sofia raises an eyebrow. "Have you already been drinking?"

"No," his eyes dart back and forth, purposefully avoiding eye-contact with Brynn.

"Then what gives with the sketch behavior?"

"Sis, I'm fine. I--I just didn't know who all was coming over today." He quickly interrupts his own sentence, changing the subject. "I'm going to go jump into the pool."

"Well, here, give me your pool bag."

"I've got it, Sof." Tony tightens his grip around his nautical-blue Lacoste tote.

"Just set it down over here." Sofia wraps her hand around a strap.

"I said, 'I've got it, Sof'," his voice is more stern this time as he pulls on his bag.

"Well, at least get it out of the sun."

"Sofia, let go! Stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop acting like a child--"

At that moment, the tote drops to the ground, spilling the contents of beach towels, swim shorts and Coppertone.

Brynn balances herself, standing up from the lounge chair.

"Here, let me help." She begins to gather some papers and a clear plastic sandwich bag with sealed medication bottles.

"No, B--Brynn. Um, I've got it!"

He quickly snatches his items from her grasp, and retreats from the premises, but not before Brynn inadvertently read his papers.

"I don't know what has gotten into him. I apologize for his behavior--" Sofia stops, noticing the shocked look on her sister-in-law's face. "Brynn?"

Brynn conceals her mouth with her hand as she sits back down on the wicker lounge chair.

"Brynn? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," her breathing labors with snickers. "I'm fine. Just, wow."

"What's wrong?" Sofia's eyebrows knit with worry.

Brynn clears her throat, containing her laughter. "I guess Tony went to the doctor."

"Yeah, so?"

Brynn stifles another giggle. "Apparently my former nanny really gets around. Tony--" Brynn snickers loudly. "--has gonorrhea, too."

Sofia crosses her arms in distaste for what she is hearing.

"Tony is not sleeping with your slut nanny." Sofia glares at Brynn as she becomes protective of her baby brother and Brynn's insinuated accusations.

"Well, I'm just saying. Maybe that's why he was acting so weird around me just now."

"Not a chance," Sofia dismisses. "Besides, he's gay."

The women lock stares with one another when suddenly, a chilling realization washes over both of them. Their eyes grow wide as their mouths drop open.

_"Oh my God."_

_"Sam?"_


End file.
